Guest Author Christy Barritt

Today we welcome guest author Christy Barritt to Inkwell Inspirations for our Sing, Sing a Song theme. You'll understand why in just a minute. Take it away Christy.

Walking Where He Leads

I’ve always loved music. I began playing the guitar at 13 years old after I found my sister’s old (and never played) guitar in the attic. I was doing a Rent-a-Teen program with the local YMCA to make some extra money and it turned out the couple whose house I began cleaning were in a local band. We made an agreement: I’d help them clean their house if they’d give me guitar lessons.

Those first few attempts at playing the guitar and singing were painful. My first song was a mean rendition of “Leaning on the Everlasting Arms” (where whenever I had to change chords I’d hold out the syllable for as long as it took to get my fingering correct). But I persevered. After about a year of guitar lessons, I began vacuuming my church building to earn extra money. The building was quite large and while I was vacuuming, I would sing (usually quite loudly, from what I’ve been told). I think I owe both of those cleaning experiences with developing my musical talent. It’s a shame, however, I didn’t retain any of that love of cleaning into my adult life. LOL I did go on to use my guitar and singing to lead worship for youth group at church and some musical specials at church.

When it came time for college, I had big choices to make. Should I be a music major? Study journalism? Dive into psychology? Each of those choices seemed interesting to me. Don’t major in music, my mom told me. You’ll never get a job. She’d been a music major and had ended up giving private piano lessons and playing at church, neither of which are bad, but neither of which would pay for college loans either.

So, I decided to continue playing the guitar, writing songs and singing as much as possible, but to major in both communications and psychology. I eventually decided after college to go the communications route and was offered a job at a Christian publishing house. Even while I worked there, I played with a band and we recorded a CD. Music was still a huge part of my life and a place where I found tremendous comfort.

Three years into my newfound career, I had a choice to make. My father, who lived 12 hours away, was terminally ill. After many prayers and tears, I gave up my job at the publishing house and moved back home. Back in Virginia, I again came to a crossroads: what am I going to do with myself? In my grief over my father, I felt there were no opportunities for either my writing or my music. After all, there wasn’t a Christian publishing house nearby where I could try to snag a job. The girls I loved to do music with still had jobs and lives back in Cincinnati.

The song “Take My Hand and Walk” by the Kry became my theme song, as the song talked about following God even when you had no idea where he was leading. I wish I could legally write the lyrics here, but I can’t. If you have a chance, check out the song. It’s ministered to me time and time again. Click here for a youtube video of the of it. (Not sung by the Kry, but the guy is good! :)

Slowly, I realized that wherever God leads you, He’s there with you. After some very grey days, I finally began freelancing writing and doing some solo music at coffeehouses. Eventually, I became one of the worship leaders at my church. Life seemed to fall into a nice rhythm and I was able to do both of the things I loved.

In 2004, I got an email with the word “Proposal” in the subject. Interesting, I thought, because I was usually the one sending proposals to editors, not receiving them. I clicked on it and saw a book proposal from an editor. I’d been writing music articles for a couple of different magazines and he liked what he saw and apparently, I’d been recommended by some other editors to him. He asked if I’d be willing to do a book called Changed: True Stories of Finding God through Christian Music. The book would be similar in style to the Chicken Soup for the Soul books, and would contain true stories from people about how certain Christian songs had effected and changed them. Of course, I said yes!

I’m still constantly amazed at how God had merged the areas of writing and music in my life. People always told me that music and writing were two careers where I’d always be poor and never make a living. Get a real job, they’d say. I’ll admit that there have been tough “famine” times, but I’ve managed to make my living with both writing and music for the past several years. Today, I still freelance write for several magazines, as well as for my local newspaper. I’m also on staff part-time at my church as worship minister and I write books, publicize them and do several speaking engagements each year. It’s quite the balancing act at times, but God’s carried me through.

Music is such an important part of my life. I’m pregnant with my second child and, as we’re trying to pick out a name for the little guy, I realized the power songs have over me. My first child was named after a singer I liked, and the names that come to mind for this baby are all influenced by songs also.

I feel so blessed that God’s used me in both areas of interest in my life and that I haven’t had to decide between my two loves. It all goes back to that song and “taking his hand” to walk where he leads.

Christy is the author of the Squeaky Clean Mystery Series about a crime scene cleaner who likes to stick her nose into police business. She is married to Scott, a high-school teacher and funny man extraordinaire. In June 2006 they added Eli to their happy mix. They also have two dogs and a house plant named Martha. When Christy's not writing, she's on staff part-time at Celebration Christian Church, where she leads worship each week.

Click here to order Changed
Click here to visit Christy's Website

Hazardous Duty: She always wanted to be a forensic pathologist. But when circumstances force her to drop out of school, Gabby St. Claire starts a crime scene-cleaning business. Suddenly a routine job turns up a murder weapon, and Gabby and her neighbor Riley realize that the wrong man is behind bars! Will they catch the real killer?

Click here to order

Suspicious Minds: Elvis has definitely not left the building! That's what crime-scene cleaner Gabby St. Claire discovers when she does mold remediation at a dilapidated old house. To her surprise, she finds the dead "King" in a crawlspace---still wearing his blue suede shoes. There's no way she can keep her nose out of a case like this! Click here to order

Dina here. I want to mention that Christy's mysteries are a hoot. You should definitely check them out. So, what Christian songs have left you changed? Has God ever woven two of your loves together in a way that surprised you? Christy should be stopping by today. Please feel free to leave questions and comments.

What If You Have No Words To Pray?

I am empty
You are holy
Come and fill my soul with who you are
In my silence You still hear me
In the quiet of this moment
I am heard
I'm overwhelmed
And at a loss for words

The above words are from a song titled Loss For Words by Charles Billingsley. If you’ve ever been so sad, so lost and hurt that you didn’t have the words to reach out and talk to God, this song describes it so well.

"In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groans that words cannot express."


I've been a Christian since I was a very young girl. But about fifteen years ago, when a local radio station began playing contemporary Christian music, I began to draw even closer to Christ. Something about those songs reached deep inside me and grabbed something in my spirit.

And I’m so thankful they did, because some of those songs saved my life. Maybe not literally, but most definitely spiritually.

Three years ago, almost to the day, something happened that forever changed me. It was an event so unexpected and so devastating that my heart was truly shattered and I wasn’t sure I’d ever recover.





All of this happened on a Friday. I had plans for the next day to take the ferry across the water and visit my dear friend, Sharon, who lives on the peninsula. I’d been looking forward to it for a long time because we don’t get to see each other very often. But when I woke up on Saturday morning, I didn’t think I’d be able to make the trip. I’d cried all night. My eyes were swollen and my face was blotchy. Even a nice hot shower and a ton of make-up did nothing to help me look human. But still, my husband encouraged me to go. He thought spending the day with a close friend would be good for me.

I agreed. As I’ve mentioned before in my friendship post, Sharon is an incredible prayer warrior, and she gives great hugs and lots of encouragement. In fact, I knew having a nice long talk with her would bring me incredible amounts of comfort.

But as soon as I left the driveway, tears started to overtake me. I tried to pray, but I had no words. I was empty. No matter how hard I tried, I could find no words. Hoping the music would distract me, I turned on the radio. I don’t even remember what was playing as I drove the curvy roads down the island toward the ferry landing.

The road I was driving that day winds along the water, before turning up a steep hill flanked on both sides by evergreen trees. At the top of this particular hill there’s an opening in the trees, and for a moment before going downhill it overlooks a valley. On a clear day, you can see the Olympic Mountains that are across the water where I would soon be headed. But we don’t always have clear days here, so when I can see the mountains I truly feel blessed.



On this particular dark and bleak morning (which so totally matched my spirit), it was difficult to see anything through the fog. But to my amazement, as I reached the top of the hill, the fog didn’t obliterate the scenery. The treetops poked out above the fog. And snow-capped mountains towered above the treetops. A golden shimmering pink and orange glow illuminated everything. And at that most magnificent moment, this song came on the radio:


The splendor of a King
clothed in majesty
Let all the earth rejoice
all the earth rejoice
He wraps himself in light
and darkness tries to hide…

Those words…those beautiful words sung by Chris Tomlin at the exact moment those mountains were illuminated above the fog…they took my breath away.




How Great Is Our God! His timing is impeccable, isn’t it?

In that moment when I was so broken I couldn’t find the words to pray, I felt bathed in the Father’s love…something I needed so desperately at that moment. I wish I could say I continued my trip across the water without shedding anymore tears. But I can’t. What I can tell you is that after I got off the ferry on the other side of the water, I had a very similar experience. Just as the sadness started to overwhelm me again, those glorious mountains peeked out again and Who Am I by Casting Crowns came on and ministered to me not just with their whole song, but with these powerful ending words:


Who am I, that the voice that calmed the sea
Would call out through the rain
And calm the storm in me
I am Yours
Whom shall I fear, Whom shall I fear

As I drove along that day, I felt Christ’s presence in a way I’ve never felt before. I always knew He was there. I'd just never felt Him surrounding me quite like this. I knew He was ministering to me, lifting me up, holding me close, and helping me focus my eyes, my heart and soul on Him.

This happened to me a couple of more times that day, with songs such as: I Will Lift My Eyes by Bebo Norman (God, my God, I cry out: Your beloved needs You now…) and Rescue by The Desperation Band (I need you Jesus, to come to my rescue, where else can I go?). These are all songs I’ve heard a hundred times before, but now heard in a much different way.

When I started my journey that morning, I was so lost and empty I couldn’t find a way to pray. There were moments when I doubted unconditional love really existed. But by the time I arrived at my dear friend’s house, I was no longer at a loss for words. I was talking to God, telling Him exactly what I needed, and I felt so loved.

I often wonder what would have happened if I had stayed home, curled up in my bed that day, instead of making the trip across the water. Would I have eventually found the right words to pray? Would I have recognized the Lord ministering to my spirit in some other way? I truly don’t know. And I don’t want to know. I just know the words of those songs have helped me through the darkest time of my life.

When I was empty, when I was at a loss for words, God was still holy and His spirit carried my cries straight to His heart. He used that day to surround me with His love, to remind me I am His beloved child and He will love me unconditionally.

To this day, when the pain sneaks back in, He continues to seek me out with His peace and His promises, to bathe me in the warmth of His presence and His everlasting love.

I hope you never find yourself at a place of total loss, where you can’t find the words to reach out to God for comfort. But if you do, I hope you’ll remember Romans 8:26. The Holy Spirit is there—interceding—bringing our words to the Lord.


And He is listening.



Loss for Words - Charles Billingsley/Don Koch/Brian Whitehttp://www.charlesbillingsley.com/pages/page.asp?page_id=77094
http://www.cbn.com/cbnmusic/artists/Billingsley_Charles.aspx

How Great Is Our God – Chris Tomlin/ Jesse Reeves/Ed Cashhttp://www.christomlin.com/

Who Am I? – Casting Crowns
http://www.castingcrowns.com/

I Will Lift My Eyes – Bebo Normanwww.bebonorman.com/

Rescue – The Desperation Band/Jared Andersonhttp://www.jaredanderson.com/index.html
http://www.desperationband.com/

All photos copyright by Suzie Johnson
I was broken.
~~Romans 8:26 (New International Version)
by Suzie Johnson

The Music of Memories

by Debra E. Marvin

I can still hear my grandmother’s voice singing the old hymns. My grandparents lived with us when I was growing up and we attended the local Presbyterian church. I don’t have to tell you that grandparents are special to children and I’m not just saying that because I’m a grandmother now, either. They’re like parents, only better. They have time.

Being an only child, grandpa was my playmate. We read together, played games and my ‘record player’ together, often while mom and grandma went out shopping. Things changed a lot when I was seven. He died of heart disease. But I still had my Mimi.

Jump forward to the mid 80s. My children knew her as the old woman whose mind had become confused and who spent so much time in front of a television, but took great joy in tickling them. She seemed to subsist on tea and cookies more than any other food group. And yet once in awhile, thankfully, her sassy, fun-loving nature showed through.

I believe music is heard in the soul and rises out of the spirit. We can recall silent notes and reproduce them in pitch. Our father God created music for His pleasure and being made in His image, our souls respond. While I love the new contemporary worship and praise songs (I couldn’t decide which Casting Crowns songs to pick), I chose an old favorite.

When we sing the old hymns, we are sharing history with ancestors--across country borders, across denominational lines, through every joy and grief found in the human condition. A small country parish in Nebraska, or magnificent cathedral in Europe. It doesn’t matter. We may not sound like angels, but we share their chorus. In God's dimension beyond time, music endures, a never-ending melody that is a language of its own.

We raise our voices and join all those who’ve preceded us on this spiritual walk. Joy rises on the wind, and tears fall.

So.
Sunday afternoons, I’d take my children to visit Grandma Mimi in the nursing home. A couple times a month, a middle-aged couple did church service. They really invested in getting to know the residents, gave a little message and led them in hymns. The mind remembers notes and lyrics. When my grandmother eventually forgot who I really was to her, she still knew the words.

One of the residents was a tiny woman; her voice as stereotypical ‘little old lady’ as they came. Above all those reedy voices, you could hear her high pitched notes. Funny as it might be, and often was, there was something about hearing those elderly residents singing a hymn. To this day, I have a hard time with "The Old Rugged Cross". It’s hard to sing when you’re choked up, isn’t it? But there’s a joy in knowing that a song has linked us all together over decades and across the planet. And it brings my grandmother back to me.

One last thing. A few months ago, I went through my mother’s personal things after she, too, moved into a nursing home. This included several old jewelry boxes. I almost put the last one aside, but opened it, took out a few pieces—vaguely familiar—and then the most amazing thing happened. I realized it was my grandmother’s jewelry box. Because it smelled like her. Our minds are amazing, aren’t they? It seems that notes and lyrics and fragrances are really just memories waiting to transport us. So I leave you with this song.

Listen carefully and you’ll hear my grandmother’s voice. Or do you hear your grandmother’s?












On a hill far away stood an old rugged cross,
The emblem of suffering and shame;
And I love that old cross where the dearest and best...For a world of lost sinners was slain.

So I’ll cherish the old rugged cross,
Till my trophies at last I lay down;
I will cling to the old rugged cross,
And exchange it some day for a crown.



O that old rugged cross, so despised by the world,
Has a wondrous attraction for me;
For the dear Lamb of God left His glory above
To bear it on dark Calvary.

In that old rugged cross, stained with blood so divine,
A wondrous beauty I see,
For ’twas on that old cross Jesus suffered and died,
To pardon and sanctify me.

To the old rugged cross I will ever be true;
Its shame and reproach gladly bear;
Then He’ll call me some day to my home far away,
Where His glory forever I’ll share.

Do you have a ‘memory’ story to share? How has a song or a fragrance brought back a loved one to you? What's your favorite 'old hymn'?

Thank you for visiting today
The Old Rugged Cross was written by George Bennard in 1912 or 1913. Seems no one can agree. It is in the public domain.

Here's a version by country singer Alan Jackson:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Za1-e9zuGV0

debraemarvin.com

Disappointment, or Unfailing Love?

by Debra E. Marvin

Place me like a seal over your heart, like a seal on your arm; for love is as strong as death, its jealousy as unyielding as the grave. It burns like blazing fire, like a mighty flame.

Valentine’s Day is a holiday that thrives on expectation--the joy found when our beloved goes out of his way to show us his undying devotion and love.

I don’t want a last minute card, I want a personal note.
I don’t want the expected, I want the unexpected
I don’t want actions done under pressure, out of guilt, I want to see the heart.
Love me daily, passionately. Jealously defend my heart, don’t fail me, don’t turn away because of my weaknesses…look past the outside and know the woman I am and all that I can be.

Impossible?

I’ve found one who knows me through and through--my worries and insecurities don’t drive him away; when my self-focus disappoints him, he doesn’t reciprocate. He listens to me when I need to ramble and vent and cry and he dries my tears and reminds me of his faithfulness. When I lose my way, he takes my hand and when I can’t see my value he reminds me that I am his…cherished so much that he would die for me.

He sees me as beautiful, priceless. He chose me and wants to spend time with me. Eternity.

He can never disappoint me and I never doubt his love because he’ll fight for me, move heaven and earth to show me he loves me. He’s proven it in a thousand different ways.

He wants my love, but leaves that choice up to me. What kind of fool would turn away?















I don’t have anything to prove to him. I don’t have to "play games" to make sure I’m noticed or that I’m respected or that I’m capable. I don’t have to bear my burdens alone because he lifts them off.

He gives me my inner most desires before I ask. His promises are unbreakable and I am willing to give up all my rights because he knows better than I.

He reaches out for me and I can go into the shelter of his arms anytime I need to. And when I get far away and have lost sight of him, I only have to turn and his hand is there, waiting for me to take it.

He walks ahead of me, makes a way for me, fights my battles, overwhelms my enemies.
He stands, with love in his eyes, and presents me to all as his bride, pure, fought for, loved. More than I can understand.

Every day, every moment.

I am special. I am loved.

If you’ve been disappointed or today has become a painful reminder of what’s lacking in your life, you are one of many, many people who find Valentine's Day an empty holiday. Don’t expect perfection in an imperfect world. If you're alone in this journey, He will fill that 'aloneness'. No one is capable of filling the void in our lives but the one who created us. He is the only one who will never fail you. Talk to him. He’s listening.

We are too. Email us at InkwellInspirations@gmail.com if you’re hurting or you need to talk.

The beautiful poetry at the beginning of my post is from Song of Solomon where Jesus' relationship with believers ("the church") is represented by a maid and her love, a bride and her bridegroom. God's love for us is passionate. Never doubt it.

debraemarvin.com

Rose photo:
Image: Salvatore Vuono / FreeDigitalPhotos.net